


Visitors

by MalkyTop



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-14
Updated: 2011-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalkyTop/pseuds/MalkyTop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghost Trick. The final fate is averted. What exactly happens in this new timeline?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> my sister's a lazy butt and I'm uploading some of her stuff ff.net to AO3

It had been a rather busy and trying night, and Yomiel was rather glad that he had been unconscious for most of it. He didn't particularly feel like taking part in another situation where someone's life was at risk, even if it was his own. He had practically inhaled the whole canister of gas in the ambulance so that he could fall into a blissful sleep while doctors around him debated back and forth whether his legs would need to be amputated or not. (It didn't really come to that, though he found he didn't particularly care if he had legs or not.)

The next time he was fully awake, he was in a hospital bed. There were a couple of guards about. Apparently the police were worried that he might try to escape again. If they saw a possibility, though, he didn't see it at all, what with all the casts and slings and IV drips and the whole shebang. Somehow, he could even feel something in his chest. Something around his ribs. He hadn't even been aware he had broken them.

His sunglasses were off and set on a small table beside his bed. And, with some embarrassment, he realized his clothes were off too and he had no idea where they were. But that's what happens when you have something approximating a full body cast.

Yomiel glanced at the stern-faced officers around them and gestured to one (at least they left his hands free). The officer stiffened and stared at him. He had no idea what to think of this strange, helpless criminal. Yomiel didn't particularly blame him. He had ran away and took a little girl hostage and then, immediately afterward, saved her from a rather grisly end.

The officer was not really responding. "Hey," Yomiel called out to him.

After some hesitation, the officer said, "Yes?"

"Mind putting my glasses on me?"

More hesitation. "…Why?"

"I just feel better with them on. Not like it'll hurt anybody."

Even more hesitation. This officer seemed like quite a newbie. If they were assigning newbies to guard him, maybe they really weren't all that worried he'd escape. "…I'm…not sure if it will fit around your, uh, bandages."

Oh. So his head was bandaged too. He just thought that he was having a headache (for rather good reasons). "Just try anyways. If it hurts, then I'll tell you."

It hurt. He didn't tell him. The guard went back to standing tall and looking sternly at anybody who passed the door (only nurses and other patients).

Now that his eyes were hidden, Yomiel stared at his feet (encased heavily in bandages) and thought about how weird it was having memories of another timeline. Memories of dying and having the power to possess and manipulate and of his time spent as a cat. He would have just called it a dream and forgotten about it if it weren't for the fact that, even now, the memories continued to play out in his head, playing out what he was doing at this exact moment. Or would have been doing at this exact moment if he had died. Which, right now, (or then?) was grieving. Over Sissel. Who had…who had…well, he honestly didn't want to think about that right now.

And besides that, he also seemed to have a nagging feeling that he had done something horrible, but he had no clear idea what. That memory was even fainter and more dreamlike than the other timeline memory. Though he had a feeling that if he waited long enough, he would get an idea of what he had done. Or would have done. Or would have will do.

The doctor came in, a short man with tired eyes, a heavy, chiseled nose, and the smell of smoke on his breath. What kind of doctor smokes? How many people would knowingly go to a doctor that smokes?

"How're ya feeling?" the doctor asked, rubbing the rings under his eyes and wiping his heavily furrowed brow.

Horrible. "Itchy."

"Yeah, casts feel quite itchy. You better get used to it though, you'll have them on for a long time." The doctor rubbed his eyes again and it occurred to Yomiel that the doctor might be a smoker  _because_  he was a doctor. Suddenly he felt sympathetic. The doctor glanced at him wearily. "…What are you doing with those sunglasses?" he asked sharply.

"I like having them on," Yomiel shot back defensively. The doctor stared at him for a long time before shrugging and turning his chiseled nose away again.

He sighed heavily before saying, "I'm glad to see you're up."

"If you have bad news for me, you may as well just say it," Yomiel said with a directness that surprised (and…possibly pleased…?) the doctor. "Am I not going to walk again or something?"

"No, nothing like that," the doctor said quickly, crossing his arms. "I just feel I must tell you about your…stay here." Sounds like bad news. "You've broken several bones in your body. Not to mention having cracked that noggin of yours."

As he moved to the end of the bed to pick up Yomiel's chart, the blond man said, "That rock never hit my head. Nor, for that matter, my arms."

"Maybe so," the doctor replied, sucking on a pen. "But don't forget that something else hit you rather hard. The ground. In any case, besides broken legs, a shattered pelvis, fractured ribs…"

"Wow. Is there  _any_  bone I haven't broken, doc?"

"Don't sound so proud. And for your information, your skull turned out rather intact." Yomiel detected an unsaid 'thank god' at the end of that sentence. "And you managed to keep all the bones in your ears in mint condition." Bones in his ears? There were bones in ears? "But that's not what I came to talk about."

"What?" Yomiel said absentmindedly, still distracted by the thought of bones in his ears. (How small were these bones?)

"We had to do a little surgery. You may have noticed the plate around your ribs and, of course, we've had to brace your spine as well..." That didn't sound safe. At all. "You will need a lot of supervision. No tissue have died yet, but they could if we can't keep blood and other such things running through 'em. Which is why you have several IV bags connected to you," the doctor added, casually flicking one of the bags beside him. That also didn't seem safe.

"Alright, what else?"

The doctor coughed a rather phlegmy cough before continuing. "Well, we may have to…continue doing some surgery."

If he could, he would have shrugged. "Alright. Anything else?"

The doctor paused again. This resigned acceptance was apparently off-putting. "Well, there is also still a chance…you will turn out deformed. Things may not, well, heal right."

"I wouldn't be surprised, what with having a giant mascot on my back for…how long was it?"

"Longer than you would have wanted," the doctor commented wryly.

"Yeah, that long," Yomiel agreed.

The doctor placed the clipboard back at the end of his bed and thoughtfully tapped his pen against his teeth. It made a sound that got annoying rather quickly. "Seeing as you have not gotten upset so far, I suppose I feel safe enough telling you the last thing…" He turned his nose to the couple of guards in the room before saying, "As soon as we deem that you are healthy enough to move, you will be moved to…well, prison." He felt uncomfortable saying it. Even the guards looked uncomfortable just hearing it. A man who had broken every bone in his body to save a little girl? Behind bars?

"Alright." Yomiel caught the incredulous stares. It was hard to miss all three of them. "Well, I committed a crime. How long do you think 'til I can actually move around, doc?"

"Eh? Ah, well…" The short doctor scratched at his chin. "My guess…you're actually quite well for someone who got crushed under a large rock. Your arms aren't even really broken, so those slings will be off shortly. I suspect you'll be moved as soon as you can sit up. That may be in a few weeks, though that's being optimistic. You'll still probably have an IV drip following you around, though."

Yomiel took all of this without blinking. Not that anybody would tell behind his shades. It was a lot to take in, though, on top of the strange alternate memories he was having, and so he took his time before replying, "Alright." And then something occurred to him. "Did anybody come to visit me?"

"I'm sorry, but for you, there are, ah, no visitors allowed." The doctor had glanced to the officers again. Yomiel followed his glance and the officers somehow managed to stiffen even more. Afraid of visitors, hm? "Oh, but it's not just because of that," the doctor added hastily. "In your condition, it's just not…safe."

Yomiel had never heard of a situation where it was not safe to have any visitors. Still, he said, "Alright. But did anybody try to visit me?"

"Mm, ah, yes. A rather upset woman who stormed out before even telling us her name." The details were vague, but Yomiel was certain he knew who this woman was.

At some point, the doctor finally left after checking more graphs and machines and needles and such, leaving Yomiel with the two guards, who seemed tenser than before.

Right now, he was feeling furious. Alternate dead him, that is. And he remembered evil, dark thoughts running through his head…

Not that he didn't understand, of course. It would be silly to not be able to understand himself, even if 'himself' didn't exactly exist. But, sitting in the comfort of a hospital room with the advantage of being able to look at the situation objectively, he couldn't help but think himself unreasonable. The alternate dead himself, of course.

"Hey," he called out to one of the guards. The guard seemed a little startled and stood to attention. If he stood any more to attention, he would have been standing on his toes. "D'ya happen to know if my sentence has been decided yet?"

The guard hesitated and turned to his friend. " _Has_  it been decided yet?"

Guard number two rubbed the back of his head. "I…think I heard them say five years. Sentenced for not complying with police and holding a person hostage…"

"Five years?" Yomiel repeated.

"Yeah, usually it'd be a little longer, I think," the first guard said, not really talking to anybody in particular. "Holding someone hostage alone is usually—"

"Too short."

It actually took the guards a few seconds to realize he had even said anything at all. Even Yomiel was surprised. He had said it automatically, just without thinking. It was something about 'five years.' It struck a memory…he supposed it was an alternate memory again. Though this time, it was part of a hazy memory of some point in the future…it was that memory of something horrible again. And again, he still wasn't sure of any details. But he was absolutely convinced that something horrible happened and he was the cause of it all. It deserved punishment, this something he did…or will do or was going to about to do or whatever tense you use in this situation.

"Five years is too short," he repeated to the two shocked guards. "Give me the full punishment. Without the pity."

"But," one guard started, spluttering rather loudly. "But you, but right now,"

"Right now you are looking at a man who held a little girl hostage. She couldn't have been older than ten."

"But," the other guard spluttered. "But then, but you,"

"Whenever you get off duty, be sure to tell your superiors. It's a special request from their prisoner."

And he stared at them with such intensity behind his shades that the guards had to finally stop and say, "Alright."

A weight lifted off his mind and he sank deeper in his pillow, content. The tension in the air was ruining the mood a bit, though. Looked like the guards would collapse from…stress, or whatever.

This was no atmosphere for a man who broke all his bones to be in. He was definitely too tired to deal with this.

So Yomiel avoided it by taking a nap. And while he slept, he watched another him go insane with the idea of revenge.

 


	2. Fiancée

Almost immediately after he was wheeled into his cell, where he would be spending the next ten years in, he was wheeled back out to meet a visitor that had apparently been waiting there for quite a while.

He was not at all surprised to see who it was on the other side of the glass window.

Sissel had her hair up in a high ponytail and, as usual, her bangs threatened to blind her. Yomiel couldn't help but think that the little bow she tied on was quite adorable. It looked like she had just gotten out of work, dressed formally as she was, but Yomiel knew that she should have gotten off work hours ago. Her hands were clasped in front of her face, but she immediately stood up when she saw him.

The guard wheeled him up to the window and stepped off to the back of the room to at least give them some privacy.

Sissel definitely wanted to say something. He could tell very easily. But she seemed reluctant to say it for now, so he started the conversation instead. "Sorry for the wait," he said with half a smile.

"It's okay, I only waited…" She paused to glance at her watch. "…Woah! Four hours!"

"…Did you even eat lunch…?"

"I, uh, can eat after," Sissel replied, getting over her shock and now delving back into worry as she started playing with her hair.

And that was when the conversation drifted off into an awkward silence. The guard behind Yomiel shifted slightly. After a while, the silence finally prodded Sissel into saying what she really wanted to say.

"It's unfair!"

"What is?" Yomiel asked, though he was sure he knew what she meant.

"Ten years! And you're still in a wheelchair! How could they! Why would they decide that!"

Actually I was the one who wanted the sentence due to my guilt about my actions in an alternate timeline, or at least that's what I think it is, I really haven't gotten any evidence to support it, but that's what it  _feels_  like and I guess I'm just going with gut instincts here. "I dunno."

And now Sissel was leaning over in her chair, her hands clutching her head tightly. Then she looked up. "Do they think you're still a spy?"

"Well," Yomiel started.

"I can't allow you to talk about that," the guard interjected with a stony face.

Yomiel cringed as Sissel shouted, "What! Why?" It was never a particularly good idea to tell her what she couldn't do, especially with no explanation.

"Since I'm accused of leaking national secrets, I don't think it's a particularly good idea to talk about the possibility of me leaking national secrets."

That at least calmed her down, though she still didn't seem happy. In fact, she pouted. It was a little adorable. "'S not true, though," she muttered, and the guard coughed meaningfully. She glanced at him before moving on. "What about our wedding, though?"

Behind his shades, Yomiel glanced down at Sissel's hand. The small band of gold glinted even in the dim lighting. "I suppose we'll have to postpone."

"But we planned it all out! We were getting ready!  _I bought the invitations!_ " As Yomiel wondered why the last one was the one emphasized, he thought he heard the guard behind him silently losing his composure. The thought would have made him smile, except there was a very upset fiancée in front of him who would probably not appreciate it.

"Well," he started.

"WE CAN HOLD THE MARRIAGE IN PRISON!" Sissel interjected. Quite seriously.

It took a while for Yomiel to respond. "I…don't think we could do that." Or should.

"Prisons aren't equipped to hold marriages, ma'am, only prisoners," the guard added, probably proud of that little joke he made there.

Sissel's expression slowly grew from determination to uncertainty. This was usually how her not-so-well-thought-out ideas ended. "Oh."

"I'd actually rather get married in a more conventional place. Getting married in a prison seems a little…depressing. And how many guests would actually come?"

"Yeah, you're right," she sighed. "I just…I just wish we didn't have to wait for ten years…" She glanced downward for a moment before continuing. "You'll be alright here, won't you? I mean…with your, um, condition…"

"It isn't that bad. You don't have to make it sound so serious." Though he had to admit that the casts were still damn itchy. The IV drip was worse because that was itchy too and he was  _able_  to scratch it, but it wasn't exactly a great idea to scratch the place where a  _needle_ was sticking out of and it was seriously getting harder to stop himself from scratching it.

"It  _is_  serious! You can't even walk!"

"But I'll get better," Yomiel pointed out. "Not everybody's as lucky."

Sissel went back to playing with her hair. "Yeah…I guess…but what about…uh…other prisoners?"

"…Are you asking if I'll get bullied by other prisoners…?"

"It's a legitimate worry!" she cried out, slamming her palms on the counter.

"I wouldn't worry, ma'am, as considering his injuries, we have guards monitoring him closely as well as a trained doctor on hand in case something happens," the guard chimed in from the back of the room.

"But, but, but, how can I pass ten years without you?" Sissel blurted out before flushing as she glanced at the guard, who was bravely trying to keep up his stoic expression but failing. "I-I mean…how could I just keep going on with my life normally, knowing you're in prison but not knowing if you're okay until the next time I can visit…?"

Yomiel stayed silent. Staring at Sissel, he was almost tempted to ask for the five-year sentence again. But his gut told him that the punishment was too important. Really? More important than the mental health of his fiancée?

His gut agreed that, when you put it like that, that sounded extremely cruel. But it was also quite stubborn. He would understand in time.

This debate distracted him slightly from the fact that Sissel was getting another idea and he was only alerted to this when she suddenly shouted, "I'LL SPEND THE NEXT TEN YEARS IN PRISON TOO!"

This time Yomiel just couldn't bring himself to respond quickly enough. The guard beat him to it. "Ma'am, even if we allowed you to join your fiancé in prison, you would not be allowed to interact with him freely due to safety procedures."

"Oh."

"You'd have to abandon your job and your friends too," Yomiel pointed out. "You probably wouldn't like the food, either."

"…And they don't actually put women and men in the same prisons," Sissel admitted, looking sad and embarrassed at the same time.

"Don't worry, okay? I'll be fine. Ten years'll go by before we know it." No it won't. It will be horrible and last far too long.

Silence preyed upon the room once more until the guard coughed and said, "Time's almost up."

"I…I want you to know…I'll always visit, Yomiel. Every day. So…um…don't be afraid." She started playing with her hair again. Her bow was starting to get jostled out of place. "I mean…you know what I mean, right? I don't care what happens…I love you."

"I know." I know from experience. Painfully so. "I love me too."

She giggled and said, "Stop it," before staring at him seriously. "Don't think you can hide behind wry humor. I know when you don't tell me something."

Yomiel tightened his grip on the arms of the wheelchair while trying to look quite innocent and not suspicious at all. Thank god for sunglasses.

"…I guess…you would have a good reason though, huh?" Sissel stared at him some more but got no answers.

The guard coughed again. It seemed that nobody taught him that he could just go ahead and say something without having to introduce himself with a cough. (That was a pretty horrible way to introduce yourself anyways.) "Time's up," he said halfheartedly.

"Alright then," Sissel sighed. "See you tomorrow, Yomiel."

"Seeya."

Sissel stood up with a weak grin. "Aw, stop hiding behind your cool demeanor already! C'mon, say my pet name, the one you always call me. C'moooooooon."

And for the first time that day, Yomiel found himself completely flustered. He stuttered for a few seconds before finally, glancing towards the guard and  _daring_  him to laugh, he mumbled a quick "Good-bye, Sissy Fish."

And then he went from completely flustered to incredibly mortified when Sissel chirped back much too loudly for his liking, "Buh-bye, Yomi Bear!" Dear god, he could  _feel_  the amusement of the guard boring straight at the back of his head.

"Stay out of trouble," he managed.

"No promises. In fact," she added, jumping back into view, "If I get tired of waiting, I might just break you out myself!"

And then he was being wheeled back to his cell. At least the embarrassment faded already.

As he pushed him along, the guard coughed again and said, "…She wasn't serious, was she? About breaking you out?"

"No, she was joking." Probably.

Without a doubt, the moments between her daily visits would be far too long. Already, he wished it was tomorrow. Already, he wished it was ten years later. Maybe he was being needy, or maybe he was affected by the current mindset of other him, but he was feeling incredibly…lonely.

If the only way he could spend time in between visits was to get depressed by remembering himself get depressed in a completely different timeline while trying to ignore his itchy legs, he might go insane.

He should probably get a hobby.


	3. Young Lady

He had to say, he had not expected another person to visit him. And he had certainly not expected for  _her_  to visit.

"Don't you have school?" Yomiel asked before wondering if that sounded too condescending.

"A detective has no time for school when she needs to save people's lives!"

"What if someone at school was in danger?"

The little girl's eyes widened, apparently never having thought of that possibility. And slowly, her face scrunched up in worry. "Y-you mean…I fa..fail…"

"No, of course not," Yomiel said quickly. Dammit, he wasn't good with kids at all. Especially when he just said things without thinking. "I'm sure everything's fine at school. You're, uh, doing good."

And instantly, the girl was all smiles again. That wasn't too hard.

Yomiel stared at her for a moment. She was so short that she could barely peek through the window. Her shock of red hair certainly raised a few alarms, but he still wasn't entirely sure…

"So, that badge..."

The girl sat up straighter to pull her plastic badge into view, even though Yomiel could have seen it clearly already. "Yup! This is my detective badge! It shows everybody that I'm a detective!"

"So, save anybody yet?" Yomiel said before he could even stop himself.

Another few seconds passed where he had to quickly take back his words before any tears could be shed and the girl was in a happy mood again, kicking her legs freely as she smiled at him.

"So…how did you get here?" he asked. He certainly couldn't just tell her to leave, so might as well give her a conversation. At least…that… _might_  be what she wanted? He wasn't exactly sure. What sort of girl would want to have a conversation with a criminal?

"Oh, that's easy. I just came in here and said…" and here, the girl took a deep breath, "DETECTIVE HERE! TAKE ME TO THE PRISONER!"

Very slowly, Yomiel lowered his hands from his ears.

"But then they asked me 'which prisoner?' And then I didn't know your name so I had to describe you, like, um, the guy with the ice-cream head! And they got it right!" As the girl emitted a constant beam of smiles towards him, Yomiel twisted around in his wheelchair to stare at the guard who could only shrug helplessly in return, unable to offer any sort of excuse other than "She was cute." Then he turned back and opened his mouth to say something before actually realizing something else the girl said.

"'…'Ice-cream…?'" He repeated weakly, reaching a hand up to self-consciously stroke his sleek hair.

"Yup!" said the girl, still a perpetual machine of light and mirth. "It's like ice-cream, so your head's like ice-cream!" Judging from the snickering behind him, the mirth was contagious. "And, and, they found you! The police are so smart!"

"It's a very good quality in a policeman," Yomiel replied drily. Despite everything, he was finding it hard to hold anything against her. She really  _was_  cute.

The girl continued kicking her legs as her smile faded a little. Though this time Yomiel was  _sure_  that he didn't say anything too upsetting.

As he thought over their recent conversation again, she quietly interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, mister…you're in that chair…because of me, right?"

Yomiel was too shocked to let out anything but a "What?" And then he realized why the girl was so familiar. How could he  _not_  remember? Well, things were going by too quickly to remember things well. Jeez, that's such a weak defense.

And now things just got a hundred times more awkward.

"Because…because I don't remember a lot," the girl continued, unaware of the sudden change in atmosphere. "But Mister Detective said, um, he said you saved me."

Yomiel's mouth went dry as he went over that short moment in the park, only with the little girl's terrified face in clear focus. "No, uh, I didn't," he tried to explain, but being confronted with the worst mistake in his life made it too hard to talk.

"I'm really sorry you got hurt," the little girl said. Her kicking legs suddenly looked guilty. "I didn't mean it."

"N-no, as long as you're alive, eh?" He tried a casual chuckle. It came out sounding more like a cough.

"Hey, mister," the little girl suddenly said, looking seriously at him again. "Are you a detective too?"

Did all little children change gears as quickly as this one did? Feeling a strange mixture of lingering guilt, confusion and amusement, Yomiel said, "No…not really."

"I wanna be a detective someday," the girl said dreamily, now just talking to herself. "But…I'm not very good at saving people…"

"Well, from what I remembered, you saved me," Yomiel pointed out.

"Um," said the girl, shaking her head. "Nuh-uh, that must've been another detective, 'cause I would've remembered saving someone's life, right?"

"Well, when I was trapped under that rock, I do remember a certain little lady who called for help."

After a pause, she said in a rather shocked tone, "That was me!"

"Yup. And that call saved my life." Hey, maybe he  _was_ good with kids after all.

"Nuh-uh, the doctors saved you, and, um, I didn't do much," the little girl said rather modestly, though there was no hiding the wide grin plastered on her face. And thus the fragile confidence of a little girl was saved.

He still felt…not exactly guilt, but…it was so  _odd_  talking to her. She should be angry. Or frightened, at least. He was glad she wasn't, but  _still_. If he went through the same trauma, he wouldn't be sure if he could face it head-on like she was doing now. Maybe he was just weak.

"Oh!" the girl suddenly said, pausing in mid kick. "I told Mister Detective I wanted to come here so he could tell me where to go, and, um, he told me to tell you, ummmmm, that you weren't guilty!" She beamed brightly again, proud of this achievement.

"What? Not guilty of what?"

"Ummmm, I dunno! He said you'd know."

Ah. That. So he had been found innocent, huh? That was nice, he supposed. "But why didn't he come tell me himself?"

"Ummm, I dunno that either!"

"For a detective, you sure don't know much." Oh dammit dammit dammit  _dammit_. " _NowaitIdidn'tmean—_ "

It suddenly occurred to Yomiel, as he watched the tears finally overflow, that there should be a law or something to keep him away from children. It gave him some comfort that she would now be going back to school with a brand new lollipop to make her smile. But still. When had he become so sardonic?

Once he was back in his cell again, it also occurred to Yomiel that he had never actually found out her name. When you take a girl hostage, it was, at the very least, polite to ask. If she came around again, maybe he would…

_Lynne…that's her name._

_The ability to control small animals was a good one indeed for spying. And he had been doing quite a bit of spying over the past few days. That bastard, Detective Jowd. That flamboyant son of a bitch, Detective Cabanela. And her._

_Why? Why did he watch them? It always hurt. Jowd, with his family. Cabanela, with his success. Lynne, with her sickening happiness. Always so happy. He held a little gun to her little face and still so happy…why why why why_

_There was nothing else to do, nowhere else to go. Because he was dead and worse than that, a dead 'criminal.' They were his murderers. They_ killed _him. They had to pay. But Jowd still had his family, Cabanela still had his success, sickly sweet Lynne still had her happiness…_

_It hurt to watch, hurt so much, but maybe, though he could do nothing and had nothing to do, if he kept watching, he would see them in misery, and that, that would be worth it…_

Yomiel lay back and rubbed his eyes under his shades. Lately, he had gotten used to these strange memories and even could shove them aside for the most part so he could just deal with his own timeline, but some of them were rather hard to ignore.

Sometimes, it was very hard to like himself.


	4. Rehab

"Heya, doc. Is it time to get back on my feet yet?"

Still short. Still smelled of smoke. "Look, I'm not going to answer 'yes' if you keep bugging me about it every few seconds." Still snappy. "I told you already, rushing rehab could have disastrous results and then you'd be in that wheelchair forever. Maybe when you think 'muscle stimulus,' you don't happen to think 'hot/cold packs,' maybe you don't even think of 'electrotherapy,' but it  _works._  I'm a  _doctor._  I  _know_  these things."

"Right, sorry." Just been wondering if I'll ever leave this chair, that's all.

The doctor sighed wearily and pushed up his spectacles. "But yes, it's time for you to get back on your feet. But  _carefully_ ," he added quickly. "Rushing this could have—"

"Disastrous results and then I won't be able to walk again?"

"Well, that too. But this also involves a bit of psychology. I can't tell you how many times I've given these same warnings to other victims of traumatic accidents. They listen, they say they understand, and the first time…the first time they fail…" Another sigh. A brief desire for a cigarette. "…sometimes, you see, it's not that they  _can't_  walk again, but they  _think_  they can't…you understand?"

Yomiel paused, if only to assure the doctor that he was seriously thinking about it. "Yeah, I do."

The doctor snorted, which was something that struck Yomiel as somewhat unprofessional. "In any case, we're going to be a bit limited with equipment in this sort of setting…so excuse the rather crude bars." On cue, the nearby guards dragged in wooden parallel bars that reminded Yomiel vaguely of middle school gym class. Gymnastics were always required there. He had always felt slightly uncomfortable with gymnastics. There was a reason he ended up with a job with computers. "It's only to help you practice, ah, stepping. If you feel like you're straining yourself too much, just sit back down, okay?"

"Right," Yomiel said, already starting to tense up. It's okay to mess up, it's okay, it's okay, failure is just part of progress…

"Oh, and before you start, I also thought it might help if I brought someone else in…" Also on cue, the guards marched in, escorting in a rather uncertain-looking young woman.

"'Sissel?"

She gave a wan smile, apparently also rather nervous about this whole thing. "Hey, Yomiel. The doctor said that I might, ah, help…I guess."

"Help with encouragement," the doctor chimed in. "As well as support, if needed."

No, now this couldn't  _work_  not that he didn't want to see Sissel, he did, but seeing her meant her seeing him and that meant he  _couldn't fail_  now…

"Alright," he said.

Sissel and the doctor moved to either side of him. The bars stretched out in front like a dull highway in the middle of the desert. "We're going to help you up," the doctor said, bracing his hands against Yomiel's back and signaling Sissel to do the same. "Sort of give you a little push up, I guess, so you can grab onto the bars. And then we'll see what happens next."

"Ready, Yomi Bear?" Sissel whispered (which he was rather thankful for).

Yomiel grimaced. "I've been waiting for this for a while. Though I can't call that 'ready…'"

"I wouldn't call it that either," the doctor said, ever the fountain of optimism. "So…one, and…. _up_ …"

He couldn't say that he was quite prepared for the unceremonious shove up onto his feet. He was quite certain that his arms were flailing around wildly before they could even come close to finding the bars that were supposed to be right in front of him and it occurred to him that after years of sitting down, it sure felt like hell to straighten his back again.

Oh dear god his body was heavy. How did his legs ever manage to hold him up before. That's just impossible.

Yomiel stayed up mostly by forcing all his weight onto his arms, but those weren't exactly the strongest thing in the world either. They started shaking hard and he held his breath…

…and then let it out again when he fell backwards into his chair.

Sissel and the doctor were right at his side. He leaned his head back and sighed heavily. He sighed heavily several times. Okay, okay, so maybe he was  _breathing_  heavily. When had walking become such a  _trial_? He could still remember a time when it was just a natural thing for a body to do…

"Yomiel?" Her hands were clutching his arm rather tightly. "You okay?"

"Nothing hurts, does it? Nothing feels pulled, or…or…"

"No, no, I'm fine…" Besides the fact that he couldn't even stand.

He could already imagine the consolation process. 'It's okay, you did your best.' 'We can try again tomorrow, you'll get it next time.' 'I'll love you anyways, even if your legs are a disfigured husk of what they used to be…'

_The target for today's practice…well, the park was mostly deserted, so there wasn't much of a choice. Old man on a bench feeding pigeons. That'd work._

_Manipulating animals had become second nature to him now. Even the lions at the zoo were easy to control. He had caused quite a bit of chaos there a few days ago. But now it was time to move up. Even if it was something little, it would be a success._

_Sissel prowled closer, though his eyes stayed on the pigeons rather than on more important matters._

" _Focus, Sissel, focus. Get me close to the old man. When I'm done, you can hunt some pigeons."_

" _Ah…right."_

_As before, he could travel easily from body to body, human or otherwise. It remained to be seen whether his abilities were now honed enough to override a human's consciousness or not._

" _Well, Sissel, wish me good luck…"_

" _Good…luck…?"_

" _Hm, I guess cats don't exactly think about that, do they."_

" _Does the good luck…help you?"_

" _Yeah. Maybe."_

" _Then…good luck."_

_It took no time at all for Yomiel to reach the core of the oblivious old man. "Thanks."_

At the same time, he felt something brush lightly against his hand. Looking down, he saw that it was Sissel's fashionable red scarf. "Hey," she said, smiling. "Your legs were really mean with surprising you like that, huh?"

That wasn't exactly the first thing he'd expect anybody to say to him at any point of time. "Eh," he said noncommittally.

"Well," she said, clapping him on the shoulder. "They won't pull one over  _you_  again, now that you know their dirty little tricks! C'mon, you're ready. You can conquer them this time."

Yomiel stared at her for a long time. This should be embarrassing but he felt…he felt…

"…I don't want to conquer my legs. I just want to stand on them."

"Yes! And to stand on them is to master them!"

_And he struggled. Sissel mewled outside, startling some of the birds. He had no idea what he was saying, but it sounded something like, "Master? Yomiel? Are you alright in there?"_

"Stop getting so excited. If he can't stand yet, he can't stand yet. We can't rush these things."

"What do you know!" Sissel shouted, now getting into the swing of things. Guards were already flocking near the door. Word had passed of her previous antics during her visits and like hell any of them were missing this. "You're no master of legs!"

The mouth of the doctor twitched. "I'm not the one who needs rehab."

This comment forced Sissel to stand up dramatically. "That's a low blow!"

"Enough, enough," Yomiel called out. He had to pause so that he wouldn't break out into laughter. "Let's just agree that nobody here is the master of legs yet and push me back up."

The doctor's brow furrowed. "Are you su—"

"For god's sake,  _yes_. Now help me up."

_Stand. Stand. For god's sake, stop feeding those damn pigeons and STAND._

Leg's shaking. Arms shaking. Everything shaking. But his knees were braced and his weight balanced and he was  _standing_.

_The old man was frail and his legs were shaking, but he was standing, and against his own will. Arms flailing, he dropped his bags of seed and Sissel dashed out of the bushes, inadvertently scaring off the birds, and running excitedly around his legs. Who cared about some birds when he was_ standing _._

_Outside, the old man's confused yelps punctuated the air, but inside, he couldn't help but let out a triumphant "HA!"_

Yomiel bit back a victorious laugh of his own, but there was no hiding the silly grin on his face. If only he could pass it off as merely smug.

The guards outside were clapping and cheering. One of them was even having a celebratory dance. The other prisoners tried to poke their heads through their bars to see what all the hubbub was about, or at least that was what he liked to imagine. Sissel whooped in his ear and jumped around, screaming, "The master of legs! He has been chosen and he is you!" He almost joined in, but decided that he wanted to keep some semblance of a cool, collected demeanor. Besides him, only the doctor stood still, not joining in the festivities, but at least admiring them from afar.

"I can't tell you how much I want to turn around and kick that damn wheelchair out the door and into a dumpster," Yomiel said, once all the noise had died down.

"Don't," the doctor remarked dryly, taking it upon himself to be the only sane voice in the cell. "You might break your leg again and we'll have to get you another wheelchair."

"Can you even turn around?" one of the guards jeered jokingly, but he, as well as the rest who were watching, held his breath as Yomiel gave it a serious try.

_He tried shifting his balance a little in order to at least shuffle his feet, but the old man resisted movement before suddenly giving way and tipping much too far to the right and he had to straighten up quickly, lest he fall. Well, it wasn't actually him falling, but it would be quite impolite to let his test subject fall, wouldn't it._

He braced himself and pushed off with one arm to be able to move it to the other bar, but no, too fast, too fast, he was going to fall…he let it drop back to where it was before. It stung his palm.

After a while of just standing (really! Standing!) there, Yomiel replied, "No."

There was a chorus of disappointed sighs. "Can ya walk?" Another shouted out, quite seriously.

"Don't rush him!" the doctor snapped, turning on the guards, who backed away as a unit, as though afraid he would whip a cane out of nowhere to hit them with. But Yomiel was already staring at the ground ahead of him. His arms were shaking at the idea.

_The idea of walking terrified him. Not that he would ever say that. But he was not ready for it just yet. He was content with just standing. Standing, finally, as a human being. Not a dead shell of a human, not an animal (though animals weren't bad, that's not what he was saying at all, I mean, look at Sissel), but a living human. He was content with the possibility for now. The certainty, in fact. 'I can do this. It's within my grasp. In my immediate future.'_

And after that pause, Yomiel responded, "One step at a time." Sissel giggled. The doctor grinned, though probably because he was agreeing with him. The majority of the guards groaned while at least one said out loud, "I don't get it."

Yomiel let himself drop back into his chair, this time because  _he_  wanted to. The chair rolled backwards a little, but was caught by Sissel, who immediately bent down to hug him and kiss him on the cheek. "I knew it," she said, a grin permanently plastered on her face. "I knew you could do it. You were just caught off-guard, that's all."

Yomiel returned with a weak grin. He was suddenly feeling tired. "Rather traitorous of my legs to use such an underhanded attack, eh?" he chuckled.

Sissel squeezed him a little tighter. "The underhandiest."

The guards spent quite a time congratulating him for his achievement before wandering off to return to their duties. It was back to just him, Sissel, and the doctor. After a pause, Sissel said, "Maybe you can command them to walk tomorrow!"

The doctor coughed to remind them he was there. "I told you, don't rush him."

"Aw, c'mon! He was able to stand!"

"Is everybody here just forgetting that I happen to be a  _doctor_?"

Sissel slumped guiltily. "Right, right, sorry…"

The doctor examined Yomiel for a short time. "I suppose you feel quite fine. Besides exhausting yourself entirely."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Yomiel wheezed, bringing another smirk to the doctor's face.

"Right then. We'll actually leave the bars here. Some exercise would be a welcome diversion, at least, hm?"

"Why, doctor, I've actually enjoyed my time confined to a wheelchair, having to depend on someone else to actually move me about."

"Hah. I've also informed all the guards beforehand about supervising you so you don't end up hurting yourself and possibly breaking your legs. Again."

"Hey, can I come in too?"

The doctor stared at her blearily. "Somehow, I think taking you here was more of a mistake. The idea of you continuing your therapeutic cheerleading makes me fear that I will come in the next week and find him dead." Sissel was already starting to form a pout.

"Then I'll just send down the guards to pass my cheerleading messages!"

This immediately sent Yomiel down a train of thought about what the past event would have been like with a guard substituting Sissel, but his mind blocked it in fear that it would scar him for life. Which he didn't doubt at all. "I don't think it would have quite the same impact."

"What if I gave them pompoms too?"

The doctor didn't seem to like where this was going either. "Perhaps you won't be quite satisfied with this, but I  _will_  be coming back here to check up on things. You can come with me too if you really want to continue your cheerleading. But note that you can only be down here as long as I am here to reign in the madness."

Sissel grinned and hopefully left all thoughts of cheerleader guards behind. "I'm fine with that."

The doctor then turned back to Yomiel. "And you," he started, glaring pointedly.

"Don't rush," Yomiel finished wearily. "I got it, I got it. You said it quite a few times."

"At least I managed to pound it in your thick skull."

"Can I have a cane, though?"

The doctor stared at him silently for a few moments. "You  _do_  realize what I've just finished telling you, right?"

"Right, right," Yomiel said, waving a hand dismissively. "I just want a damn cane."

"I'm sure Yomiel can totally pace himself when I'm not around to egg him on," Sissel said, still grinning like a maniac. The doctor sighed.

"Well, the guards may not like it. But if they're okay with it, then, fine. You can have your damn cane."

"Ooh, and it can be one of those cool ones that has a  _sword_  hidden inside!"

"Now I  _know_  the guards wouldn't like that…"

Of course, privately, Yomiel intended on being able to walk by the end of the week. Any time spent not talking to Sissel or eating or sleeping or being exhausted from training would have to be spent training.

Though his plans were thwarted the next day, when the guards threw him a surprise party. There was a cake and a rather peppy banner and even some balloons. Someone brought a tape labeled 'The Panic Dance' and a few knowing chuckles spread amongst the guards, piquing Yomiel's curiosity. It disappointed him when they couldn't find a TV to bring down to his cell. So instead, they had some celebratory cake. And at the end, they gave him a medal. It said, 'Master of Legs.'

"…Did you make it with colored paper?" Yomiel said, grinning despite himself.

"We would've put some glitter on it, but we couldn't find any," the guard responded, with a grin much wider than his.

Overall, it was a rather nice party.

_Despite the lack of anything that made a party a party._

_Sissel was still not entirely clear on this 'party' thing, but it seemed to be a time to be happy and also a time to eat, and that was fine by him. "Why is a party happening now?" he asked, mostly to himself._

_Yomiel grinned at him and ruffled his ears. He didn't eat. He never ate. "A celebration of progress," he replied, once again forgetting that Sissel still didn't quite have the vocabulary that he did. "It won't be too long, you know. Could even be the end of the week that I'll make that call. Everything's starting to come together."_

_Sissel didn't exactly understand this either, but Yomiel sure sounded happy about it. Maybe it was that plan thing he mentioned often. The plan thing that was like hunting only not. Well, of course he was happy because hunting was good. Especially if it meant pre-hunting feasts like these._


	5. Detectives

He didn't hold a grudge. It was  _idiotic_  to hold a grudge. He knew the choices they made and he knew the choices he made, and though they certainly could have made better choices, the same went for him. The human mind and its neuroses were complicated and nobody knew how anybody else would react and when things went to shit everybody just panicked until things predictably got worse. So yes, he understood, and no, he didn't hold a grudge, not at all.

This still didn't change the fact that having his former interrogator and his former pursuer in the same room as him made the atmosphere quite hard to swallow.

Yomiel laid down his brush and stared as Cabanela spun into his cell in a rather flashy manner. He turned towards Jowd, who was looking just about as uncomfortable as he was. "Does he do this all the time?"

Jowd managed a wan grin. "Even in the most serious situations."

"Heeey, baby, it's in the most serious situations that you need—" And here he spun once more. "—Someone to help dance through it aaall."

"I see." No. No he didn't.

The three men stood in silence, Jowd and Yomiel regarding each other with uncomfortable suspicion. Not in the usual way of suspicion, but, rather confusingly, they suspected themselves of being suspected by each other. Jowd suspected that Yomiel suspected him of some ulterior motive for coming. And Yomiel, though he knew it was a silly suspicion, suspected Jowd of coming because of something he had just done, or at least seen himself done, or remembered himself doing or however this silly alternate timeline stuff worked. Cabanela suspected that both men were feeling guilty for ridiculous reasons and was somewhat right.

"Weeeell now," he suddenly said, cheerfully clapping Jowd on the back. "I believe we oughta start, baby. Don't want to keep this poor man standing on his cane all day, do we?"

"You don't want to sit down, do you?" the detective asked, finally noticing the worn cane Yomiel was leaning on.

"Uh, no, I'm fine. How about your leg? If I remember correctly…"

"No, no, my leg's healed up. It was nothing compared to your injuries. Are you sure you don't want to sit? We may be talking for a while…"

"I'm sure. My legs are fine."

"…says the man who spent two years in a wheelchair." Cabanela smirked. It occurred to him that these two had no problem dancing about the issue themselves. It was like a tango. The Courtesy Tango, and neither knew who was stepping first. "If he doesn't feel like sitting down, then he doesn't feel like sitting down. And if he happens to feel like sitting down later, then who are we to deny him that?" He paused for a moment. "In fact, I feel like sitting down. Oh booooooys!" And the guards immediately complied and carried in a chair.

Watching Cabanela sit down was just about as interesting as watching him enter a room. Which is to say, very. "You should see him on the stairs," Jowd said, catching Yomiel's look with a knowing grin.

"Now then," said Cabanela, now slumped in his chair in a very casual way. The chair threatened to tip over, but he somehow managed to keep balanced. "Shall we begin, or go through the rounds of circuitous courtesy again?"

"Right," Jowd coughed, ready to plunge into the topic that he had been avoiding since he came in. Yomiel found himself tensing up as well even though it couldn't  _possibly_  be what he was thinking…

"It's..it's been preying on my mind for years, now. And I have put this off for far too long. I apologize for everything. For shooting you," he clarified.

"Well I…uh…what?"

"I should have just dropped the gun," Jowd said, looking down in shame while Yomiel frantically thought back to that one event, trying to figure out what he was talking about. "But…I was just young and foolish." He paused for a moment. "I guess I'm still young and foolish."

Wait wait wait, there was that time right before he went unconscious. He was pretty sure he felt something hit his head. Was that what he was talking about? But if a bullet hit his head, he wouldn't even be alive. But somehow, he was knocked unconscious, right? Just not by a bullet. But that just made him question where the bullet went and where the other thing that hit him on the head came from.

Thinking about this was making his head hurt. "…Well, if you hadn't done anything…I could have escaped," Yomiel said instead.

"But you turned out to be innocent anyways!" Gee, that was loud. This was the one Lynne looked up to, right? He could sort of already see some resemblances.

"But you didn't know that at first, did you?" Yomiel had the feeling that what he was about to say would be the most hypocritical comment he would ever make but pressed on anyways. "Don't judge your past actions based on what you know in the present. It's just pointless." He could probably pass it off saying that in  _his_  case, he did something  _really_  unforgivable…in another timeline, at least.

"I still apologize," Jowd said firmly, crossing his arms. And the sheer size and bulk of him compared to himself made Yomiel think that, although likely nothing would happen otherwise, it was probably best to accept it.

"I would like to make an apology of my own," Yomiel said. "I'm sorry for taking that little girl hostage."

Underneath his shaggy beard, Jowd grinned. "I think that's an apology best said to her, not me."

"Well, you can pass it along if you want. But what I meant is, I'm sorry for causing so much trouble that day. I probably made it worse for myself. Probably made me look even more suspicious, huh?" he chuckled wryly.

"That's not really something to laugh about," Jowd said before pausing a moment. "But yes, it did make you look a little more suspicious."

"Weeeeell now, you two feel happy with your apologies? Glad to get that feeling off your chest? Nothing like it, baby," Cabanela said, suddenly jumping up to his feet. In a flashy way. Sheesh, everything he did was so flashy. "And if you don't mind, I would like to join in the apologies as well…"

With a deep breath, Cabanela stared straight at Yomiel. With a  _serious_  look on his face. "I was the one who drove you to desperation in the first place. My interrogation technique that day was too rough and, foolishly, I went and snuffed out all hope. Then I went and gave you hope again by carelessly leaving behind my gun for you to freely take. I was the one who started the whole mess." Then, surprisingly, the detective bowed, bowed so low that the ends of his scarf brushed the floor. It looked a bit silly to Yomiel, but at the same time, he felt that it was very serious. "For all this, I apologize. From deep within my heart. The deepest, even."

Yomiel stared down at him. He stayed bowed over. Was he waiting for him to say something? He looked over at Jowd, who was looking just about as bemused as he was. He had never heard of a detective bowing to a prisoner. This honor was starting to unsettle him.

When all else fails, snark. "…What happened to 'helping us dance through it all?'"

Cabanela finally straightened up and fell back into his chair. "Some serious situations call for some seriousness." And suddenly, he was back to being all smiles. "But now, that moment has passed, and I do hope you'll accept my seeeerious apology."

"Well," said Yomiel, feeling safe enough to smirk. "If you're going to apologize for that much, I might as well apologize for taking that job in the first place without realizing the possible consequences."

"And I might as well apologize for even being born!" Jowd's laugh was as loud and booming as his stature suggested it to be.

Cabanela thought for a moment, tilting his chair in thought. "Theeeeen I might as well apologize for potentially being a time traveller and going back in time in order to orchestrate these events to happen in this waaaaay."

The other two men immediately went silent and stared at the man in white. Jowd appeared to chew on his words thoughtfully before saying, "That was a rather convoluted scenario you just laid out. And probably one you didn't have to apologize for."

"I can safely say it was the saaaame for your apology."

Yomiel just leaned on his cane. What Cabanela had just said seemed to strike something within him. There was just something about it that sounded familiar.

Actually, thinking about it, he had no idea  _why_  he had memories of a possibly alternate timeline, did he? Was time travel actually the answer? But he didn't exactly believe in time travel. But he had never exactly believed in ghosts either, now had he?

Did…did Cabanela actually know about the alternate timeline? Looking at him, it didn't seem like it. He was just joking around. Though really, it was hard to glean much from a guy like Cabanela. But it  _did_  just seem like a joke…

Maybe they  _did_  remember. After all, he remembered. (What exactly determines who remembers alternate timelines? Was it just a cruel trick of the gods?) "Hey, detective…s." The two looked at him and he almost felt guilty for interrupting what was probably their usual banter. "You don't…" Man he was going to feel a little stupid if this went nowhere. "…You don't happen to remember something…weird about, uh, the stand-off, do you…?"

"Weeeeird, you say?" Cabanela drawled out. "How so?" But Jowd certainly was getting a reaction. His beard bristled as he thought, reaching for something in his mind that shouldn't be there.

"…Maybe…" Oh man how was he supposed to say this. "An…expectation, say, of…things turning out another way…?"

Now Cabanela was frowning as well. He sucked on the inside of his cheek. "I'm…nooot quite sure what you want me to say. I'm guessing it's not 'I expected you to die.'" There he goes again, with those eerie jokes.

"…How did the Mino statue get there…?" Jowd wondered out loud.

Not…quite what he was looking for. But he did bring up a point that Yomiel had not thought of much before. (Getting crushed under the thing was the most he wanted to do with it.) He had been unconscious during the time that it was falling, but he was quite sure it wasn't exactly possible for it to fall on him from where it had been initially. The trajectory that it took and the theoretical trajectory didn't really match.

Though he did just find out (or…remember) today that ghostly manipulation could also extend to objects…there could have been ghosts there. If they were actually strong enough to manipulate a huge statue. Though he wasn't sure why they would meddle with his stand-off. But wait, didn't he learn at some point that the cause of all the ghost power stuff was the meteorite piece lodged (or would have been lodged) in his back? So he should have been the only one…unless someone else died near that meteorite. But he hadn't heard of any deaths. So he should have been the only one…so…time travel…? But he couldn't do that…if he could…or if he had would have…could…?

His head was starting to hurt again. Enough pondering about that.

"…Never mind," he said. Though now another question was popping up into his head. Because it couldn't  _just_  be a coincidence that they decided to visit on this very day, was it? But maybe it wasn't a good idea to ask this. But…

"By the way, why did you wait five years to visit?"

Jowd looked away guiltily. "I was just a coward. I guess I still am, if I could only come here because of Cabanela…"

"Don't be misleading there, we just haaaaappened to be in the neighborhood and I just haaaaaappened to suggest…"

The drawn-out 'haaaaaappeneds' just haaaaaappened to make that sentence all the more suspicious. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I meant…" What  _did_  he mean? 'I thought you might have come here because your wife just died in an alternate timeline through my hands?'

…Wow, that was just a depressing thought he had made light of.

"…Never mind."

The atmosphere quickly became awkward again as the three men suddenly found that they had nothing more to say. It was even tenser for Yomiel, who had foolishly brought up the memory of that night again and thus dug up a fountain of guilt once more.

"…You know," Jowd said slowly. "You could get a shorter sentence. Not only were you supposed to originally get let out today…but you could get a lot of time off for good behavior."

"Not that I think you'd have been able to get up to any baaaad deeds in a wheelchair and a cane," Cabanela added.

"No, I've decided to see these ten years through."

"But it doesn't make sense!" Jowd was back to being loud. "You're completely innocent of all that national spy business and we agreed that what resulted from that was  _our_  fault!"

"I didn't quite agree to that. I share a bit of blame too," Yomiel pointed out. "I'm still going to go through the full sentence."

As Cabanela stared at him with an entirely serious look again, Jowd struggled to figure out what else to say. "It's, it's disproportionate retribution! Even for what you did, ten years, it's too long!"

"I recall that you had a fiancée…" Yomiel stiffened as Cabanela brought her up. "Does she know that you could have a shorter sentence? Is she okay with waiting?"

"That's right! You're really willing to push your marriage aside for the sake of an excessive punishment?"

They both were certainly making it hard.

The thing was, he  _was_  lying to Sissel. There was no sugar-coating it with 'it's for a good cause.' He was just plain lying to her. If she decided she couldn't wait any longer, he would deserve it. And the possibility that she would just killed him…and for five years, he had constantly doubted himself. Was it worth it? Forcing her to wait ten years just so that he could feel that he fulfilled  _something_? Feel…what? Forgiven? By who? Himself?

…Not that he was any closer to answering those questions. But after today, he was all the more determined to see it through.

"…Hey, detective," he spoke up. "Jowd," he clarified. The large man jumped and stood straighter, as though he had been caught doing something.

"Yes?" he replied, slightly wary from Yomiel's tone.

"You're married, right?"

He fingered his own ring. "Yeah."

"And you love your wife. Dearly." He paused. By the look on Jowd's face, there was no doubt about it. "And if something were ever to happen to her, you would feel…"

"Horrible. Terrible. Awful." Jowd hesitated for a moment. "There would be no words that could suitably describe it."

Yomiel nodded, a man in love himself. "Yeah. I figured. And that's why I want to continue on with my full sentence."

The other two looked like they didn't understand at all. In the case of Jowd, he at least didn't  _completely_  understand. But something in his face said that there was something stirring in his mind that he wasn't supposed to remember.

"You don't have to understand. Just honor a guilty man's wishes."

"Of course." For a moment, Yomiel thought that Cabanela was going to bow ridiculously low again, but the detective just hopped back onto his feet. "If you feel that way. And with that, I think we should wrap this liiiitle visit up, hmmm? Got some wooork to dooo." As Cabanela…danced? Sashayed? Moseyed? It was really difficult to describe his walk, but he walked on out, and as he walked out of view, Yomiel could hear him sing, "The work of a detective, nothing like it baby!"

Jowd's large frame filled up his cell door. "Oh, wait," Yomiel called out. The detective half-turned. "…There was a kitten there, back then, right?"

"Oh, you mean Sissel?"

Now this really took him aback. "Sissel? You named him Sissel?" Oh the irony. He would have laughed. But now he was wondering how confusing it would be with two important Sissels at the same time.

"Yeah. It's a good name, isn't it?"

No denying that. "What made you name him Sissel?"

Jowd thought about this for a moment. "No clue. It just fit, you know?"

And so Yomiel was back alone in his cell.

Interesting. So despite many changes, two timelines could still share some details. Though the naming of a cat wasn't exactly a big thing…

He turned back to his easel and picked up the brush again. Looking at it, he wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to paint. Man, he sucked. Well, he had five years to get better.

  


 


	6. Cat

He looked up.

Yomiel had been in this place before, at least in his memories, and so he wasn't quite surprised. Somehow, he wasn't all that surprised to see who was there either.

"Hey there, old friend," he said, smiling at the familiar figure of a cat he had never befriended.

"Hello again, Yomiel." Sissel twitched his whiskers. Was that a feline equivalent of a smile?

"So…you ended up dying anyways, huh?"

Sissel shrugged, which was something he didn't quite expect a cat to do. "That shard ended up going all the way through his leg and I happened to be in the way. I'll be fine. I'll enjoy living longer than any cat ever will."

Yomiel just nodded, almost absent-mindedly, and looked down. He still couldn't help but think it unfair that everybody who had helped to save him lived except for the one who had basically made it happen.

"Oh, no, I think it's the best possible outcome, considering," Sissel remarked, sounding amused. Yomiel quickly remembered there were no secrets in the ghost world. "So," the cat continued rather casually, standing tall and twitching his tail. "Getting out today, are you?"

"Yeah." Yomiel grinned. "I've been waiting for this for a while."

Sissel peered up at him, eyes wide. "So. What do you think?"

He didn't have to listen to his unsaid words to know what he meant. He sighed. "Pretty good."

Sissel didn't say anything, so he continued. "I…was just thinking of it as punishment before. But also…" He paused to collect his thoughts again. Man, he really wasn't the eloquent type.

"Oh come now, you're not all that bad."

Yomiel couldn't help but give a little smirk before starting up again. "But also, it gave me a lot of time alone. Time to think, actually."

"And what did you think about?"

"Hey, I'm getting there," Yomiel snapped, unable to restrain the wide smile that was crossing his face now. He had really missed the banter…even though he had never bantered with a ghostly cat in this lifetime. (Maybe that's why he missed it?) "I thought about my crimes, mostly, because after all, that's what I was in here for. And I…pretty much beat myself up over it."

"And then?"

"And then…I guess I realized that I had a lot of time to…accept." Okay, now  _that_  just sounded stupid.

No, keep going.

"I'm still accountable for the past ten years, you know, but I'm not him. I've experienced things differently…and I suppose I've experienced things in the same way too, in a sense. But I'm not him. It all happened at some point in time, but I can't let it haunt me and I can't keep beating myself up about it."

"So do you?"

Yomiel shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, a little. I suppose I'll have to do more than accept."

Sissel twitched his tail. "Can't fight the need to apologize for something, eh?"

Yomiel shrugged again and grinned weakly. "I've had a lot to apologize for." Sissel seemed to smirk back.

Actually, that reminded him.

"Somehow, you're still 'Sissel'. Does Jowd actually remember?"

It was Sissel's turn to shrug. "Perhaps. I can't actually talk to him anymore. He hasn't technically died yet and not many people really talk to their cats, you know. I think he does remember, but he's either suppressing it for some reason…or he's finding it hard to believe."

"I would have found it hard to believe too, actually." But thank god that second set of memories finally stopped.

"Missile seems to remember. Practically whenever we meet, he yaps at me in a rather grateful manner. But on the subject of Jowd, I can't help but notice you're painting something." Sissel's eyes gleamed and Yomiel reflexively glanced over to where his easel was. What did painting have to do with Jowd?

"Uh, yeah."

"Can I see?" Sissel's eyes gleamed brighter. It actually looked a little frightening.

"Uh, no."

Sissel immediately looked disappointed. Now he just felt bad. "Why not?"

"It's not finished and it's not good."

"Well, I'll just wait 'til you leave then and take a peek myself."

"If you're here, where's your body?"

The black cat stared in a way that only a cat could, mixing together a look of disdain and superiority and whatever the opposite of amused was. "Way to change the subject."

"It's a serious question." It was also the first subject that came to mind. Ah, dammit, that's right, no secrets in the spirit world…

Sissel just rolled his eyes and pretended not to hear. "If you really have to know, I hid it far away from the house. Time doesn't pass in the ghost world, but you never know what'll happen and I'm not particularly fond of the idea of the little lady finding it. Actually, her mother might not have a calm reaction either…or Sissel."

"Oh, you've met Sissel?"

The two paused for a moment and agreed that it was really weird to talk about a Sissel when the conversation was between a Sissel and a guy who at one point took on the name Sissel.

"Well, what do you call her, then?"

"…Sissy Fish."

Sissel's eyes brightened at the sound of fish, but otherwise betrayed no amusement. "I see. In any case, Sissy Fish has taken to visiting once in a while. I think Cabanela caught her leaving here once and invited her and she's been coming over ever since."

"Ah, really? I can't say I know many people who would invite someone to other people's houses."

"In any case, your Sissy Fish sort of became a family friend and—"

"Let's not use Sissy Fish," Yomiel suddenly said. Sissel stared at him, apparently not understanding, but just went with it. "If Sissel goes to Jowd's house, didn't they make up nicknames to differentiate between you two?"

"When Sissel first came, mostly they exclaimed about the weird coincidence. Jowd got a strange look on his face. Then they just went on with calling her Sissel." The cat paused. "It's not like they're going to confuse her with me. I'm a cat."

"...Ah. In any case, what's Sissel been doing, then?"

"Oh. Well, she's mostly been eating dinner. She talks a lot about how she keeps shouting at people who call you a criminal. She also talks a lot about how she's lost a few friends that way. She talks a lot about stress of work. She talks a lot about weddings and the stress that comes with planning them and—"

"Wait, what? Wedding? She's planning it without me?"

"All in all, she seems to be very stressed. It's crunch time, actually. I think that's what they said. She's planning on holding the wedding…this week? Maybe?" Sissel paused. "I think that was supposed to be a surprise."

"But I don't even have a job yet! I told her I wanted to get a job before we get married!"

"She said that it may be hard for you to get a job on account of doing ten years' time and she's not patient to wait longer than that. I don't think she meant offense by it, though."

Yomiel snorted. "You can tell her I don't take offense at all."

"But…yeah, there was another surprise."

"Oh my. I don't think I can take any more."

Sissel grinned widely as he said, "Jowd's already settling the job thing, I believe. He's actually become quite influential."

"I…uh…what?" A job! Suddenly, Jowd became Yomiel's second most favorite person in the world. "I…uh…what sort of job?"

"Geez, I dunno, something with computers, perhaps, since that's what you do?"

"No need to get sarcastic. And you could stand to be a little more specific."

Sissel gave him the cat-disdain-superiority-opposite-of-amusement stare again. "I'm a cat."

"Oh. Right." Somehow, that was easy to forget. "Any other surprises I should be aware of?"

Sissel thought for a moment. "You're going to eat dinner at Jowd's house at some point."

"…How shocking. I don't think my heart can take it."

"Hey, not much can beat 'wedding this week' and 'you have a job now.'"

"Yeah. Still, I wish she'd tell me these things. Would save me some worry."

Sissel paused again, twitching an ear as though shaking off an itch. "Well, I believe I saw her on her way here as I came in, so she'll probably tell you soon. I'll leave you to wait for your release again."

"Thanks." For everything.

"Make sure to look surprised, though. She'll be disappointed if you don't."

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure I can fake out my own fiancée."

"Somehow, that worries me."

The transition from the ghost world to the living world was not a soft one indeed. Time started again and he almost mentally tripped as it did (insert pretentious metaphor here with time being a carpet). Everything suddenly seemed bright, giving him quite a headache. And, so soft that he almost didn't hear it, a ghost whispered:

"By the way, it's a very nice painting."

 


	7. Red Suit

"Helloooo!"

It was dark. He suddenly had a bad sense of deja-vu. "No, don't—"

Sissel flipped on the lights. As soon as Yomiel heard the first few chords of 'Happy Birthday to You,' he grabbed Sissel around the waist and pushed the both of them down to the floor rather loudly and painfully. After a yelp and a thud and a few seconds, there was a bang, as he had expected. Only the wrong kind of bang. He realized this as soon as he felt streamers land on the two of them.

The engaged couple slowly stood back up, Sissel wincing as she unbent her knees and Yomiel rubbing his jaw (what luck to land on it). Everybody else emerged from whatever hiding place they chose, some shouting 'Surprise!', not at all aware what had just happened, others quickly asking about their well-being. Sissel quickly nudged him sharply. "Jeez! What was up with that?"

"Uh, sorry…I thought…" I thought something stupid, that's what. There wasn't even a gun hung up on the wall anymore. If only he had seen that earlier.

"Heeeeeey, just a liiiiitle healthy paranoia, hmmm?"

"Wouldn't call any sort of paranoia 'healthy,'" Jowd muttered. "Is my humble abode really that untrustworthy, Yomiel?"

"N-no…I just…" Oh man. There was absolutely no way out of this without looking like a fool.

"I'm sorry it scared you…um…Mr. Yomiel…" Ah. And here comes Kamila. Was he good at making little girls sad or what? "I was trying to make some improvements…"

"I…uh…'improvements…?'" That was about the time that Yomiel noticed a banner that said 'Happy Birthday.' It seemed to have been unfurled in the middle of the whole thing. "…It's not my birthday."

"Well, they don't exactly sell banners celebrating an escape from prison, you know." Shock of red hair. Ah, Lynne. The other young lady…though now she was a bit older…

It still surprised him how… _okay_  she seemed to be around him. No hidden trauma? Or fear? Or anything? Every time he saw her, he couldn't help but want her to be angry. People like her made it hard to make up for past mistakes.

"M…Maybe…do you think people would buy some?" Sissel suddenly murmured by his side.

"No," he replied firmly. "Besides, I didn't 'escape' from prison. That makes it sound like I got out illegally."

"…But we shouldn't talk about this…shouldn't we be celebrating? Let's go eat the cake and be merry for our new couple." Now who was that? Ah…Alma.

It…wasn't exactly comfortable for him to be so near a woman he had killed in a different timeline. In fact, he almost felt sick looking at her. Like she would suddenly remember that he murdered her and suddenly transform into some wrathful spirit or something. Something silly like that. He stopped his hands from shaking by pocketing them and said, "We're not technically married yet." This earned a punch on the shoulder from Sissel.

It was lucky that Alma didn't sit next to him. If she had, he was sure that he would die again and that would be rather inconvenient. It was bad enough that he could see her from the corner of his eye. See her smiling and laughing with her daughter and then see her collapsed on the floor and her daughter sobbing loudly because it was her fault. He allowed her to believe that it had been her fault for five years…

Stop that. It didn't happen.

Both Jowd and Cabanela were trying to get Yomiel to join the loud, boisterous, manly chat they were having. It was all jokes and laughter and rough clapping on the back and talking with their mouths full. Chatting wasn't exactly something he did often, so he mostly stayed silent. He would probably need all his concentration in order to avoid inadvertently glancing at Alma and starting the whole guilty flashback all over again.

It was much easier to glance at Sissel, who was sitting opposite him. Lynne was engaging her in conversation. Sissel looked quite confused until they finally found something they both could talk about and started talking about a new movie at the same time. Having been in prison for the past ten years, Yomiel couldn't exactly join in.

Cake crumbs were falling on Jowd's beard as he enthusiastically clapped Yomiel on the back. Yomiel almost dropped his fork. "Well now, see you're still wearing those sunglasses. Never understood why you're always wearing them!"

"Hmmm, perhaps he has something to hiiiiiiide?" Cabanela suggested, elbowing him jokingly.

Dear god, he was being attacked on both sides.

"No, no," he said, his shoulders instinctively rising. He didn't look up at either one of the men, who were no doubt grinning ear to ear, instead opting to have a staring contest with the plate in front of him. What was it about parties that made him feel so awkward? "I just like wearing them. Sunglasses are just cool."

"Ah, of course. I wear this large trench coat…because it's cool."

"And I dance whereeever I go because it's cool."

The two men nodded and made general noises of agreement while Yomiel was stuck between them, wondering if he was being made fun of. He glanced across the table and found that Sissel was still talking easily with Lynne and seemed to have become one of Kamila's favorites when he wasn't looking. Which was nice, but he was still stuck here trying to figure out what to say.

They didn't even have  _anything_  in common. Besides the fact that they were all involved in the same incident. But that didn't seem like a very good topic. ("Hey, guys, remember when you interrogated me ruthlessly? Yeah.")

Yomiel took another discreet sip of grape juice and scanned the room again. Missile was here too, bothering Sissel, or rather, the other Sissel, bounding around the cat and yapping wildly while he silently napped (or at least pretended to).

Yomiel tried to send a  _help me_  his way. Sissel opened an eye and stared at him for a few seconds before closing it again.

' _I'm not here to get you out of every uncomfortable situation. Stop being asocial.'_

Yomiel bit back a  _screw you_  but he suspected that Sissel heard it anyways.

"Well, I certainly hope you won't talk this much at your wedding. The guests will barely get a word in." Jowd smiled wryly at him with a quirked eyebrow.

Ah, good, a more familiar territory: blatant sarcasm. "My eloquence is certainly something to behold," Yomiel mumbled.

"Aaah, right, I believe it's this week, riiiiight? I certainly hope  _weeee're_  invited."

Hearing this, Sissel butted into the conversation briefly and said, "Of course! Everybody here's invited!"

Yomiel couldn't possibly sink in his seat any lower and so settled for leaning on the table and rubbing his eyes underneath his shades. Not good at social situations. At all.

"…I think soooooomeone's not happy with us."

"What's wrong? Think we'll embarrass you?"

"Uh. No, of course not, nothing like that." Really, Yomiel, you're just offending people all over the place. "It's, ah…" Remembering his earlier conversation with his old pet cat, he dropped his voice slightly and continued, "I'm not sure if I can, uh, support us…especially after the wedding, you know? I'm sort of out of a job and I don't know if there'll be anybody who'd want to take me…" Thankfully, he managed to repress any sarcastic tone.

Both Jowd and Cabanela grinned at him, obviously very pleased with getting to reveal the second part of the surprise. "Well," they both said at the same time and then glanced each other, waiting for the other to start, before talking over each other again.

"You got a job," Jowd said as Cabanela crowed, "Welcome to the police force!" The women, apparently having waited all this time for this specific moment, suddenly stopped chattering and stared eagerly at the surprisee.

Yomiel had been preparing to look surprised, but the look on his face now wasn't faked. "I…uh…police…?" he stammered.

"No, nothing like what you're thinking. You're not trained after all. That would be just silly."

"You're our new computer speciaalllist!"

"Not sure if you noticed, but our place is a little…old-fashioned."

"Our guards pin up  _reminders_. On  _bulletin boards_. Veeeeery old-fashioned."

"So we're going to get this whole police database thing. You'll be in charge of it."

"Building it from scraaaatch, you know."

"Isn't it great, Yomi Bear?" Sissel finally blurted out, eyes brimming with excitement. "I mean…you like it, right?"

Okay. He had been prepared for 'a job.' He certainly hadn't been prepared for  _this_  job. This was certainly a… _very_  important job…

He finally managed to smile wanly. "You mean your superiors actually trust me with important police information?"

Jowd grunted. "If anybody has a problem with it, I'll beat some sense into 'em."

"And aaaafter that, I'll dance all over them!"

"And I'll step on their toes!"

"It was a joke," Yomiel mumbled. "I'd rather not get three detectives kicked out at the same time. You don't really have to do that for me."

"I'll poke their eyes out!"

Yomiel stared. "Sissel, I think these people are a bad influence."

' _If necessary, I could haunt them.'_

' _You're not helping.'_

"Really, all these suggestions are so violent. I'm sure there won't be trouble, but if there is, shouldn't you just protest non-violently? With media coverage, the story would go nationwide and more likely than not paint Yomiel as the victim so that as a result, for a worthy cause, many would swamp him with invitations for job interviews, leaving the 'perpetrators' to possibly be scrutinized and either demoted or fired."

Everybody stared. Jowd mumbled, "Alma, sweetie…" while she just smiled brightly in her seat.

And then he couldn't help it. Yomiel laughed, and everybody laughed with him, laughed at how silly they were being, laughed away the past and laughed because the future was good.

Alma and Lynne. They were  _here_  and they were  _people_ , lives that went on independently from his. They didn't disappear when he stopped thinking about the mistakes they symbolized to him because that wasn't all there was to them. Hell, one of the mistakes didn't even happen because he, too, was  _here,_  not there.

Alma and Lynne. If they forgave him, shouldn't he also forgive himself? Fully forgive? Why build a wall to keep out the people who cared about him? He needed to do them a favor, actually, everybody here a favor, and start getting to know them all as people, not mistakes.

He wouldn't have been able to marry Sissel without doing what he should do here and now.

With a wide grin, he hooked his arms around the two men's shoulders, though while Cabanela was thin enough to make this possible, Jowd's shoulders were so broad that he had to settle for clapping a hand on his back. "With all this, I can't help but think that everybody here is exempt from bringing wedding gifts."

"I wish I knew that before I went out and bought one, then."

"I didn't buy one at aaaaaaall."

"…Well that just hurts."

"Um, I made one for you, Mr. Yomiel! I made—"

"Hang on, don't tell me. Keep it a surprise."

"She made a—"

"Noooooo, Mommy, he said to keep it a surprise!"

"It's so hard keeping secrets…"

"Ha! That reminds me of that one time, Missile, he snuck into my secret biscuit hiding place. I don't even know how he got the door open. Now I have to buy a new bag of doggie treats and find somewhere else to keep it…"

Sometime during everything happening, Yomiel leaned over and kissed Sissel lightly. She looked surprised for a moment before shyly smiling back, brushing her hair away so that she could see him better, see that somehow, he wasn't the type to be embarrassed with public displays of affection.

"I love you, Sissy Fish."

With a giggle, she said, "I know."


End file.
